


Civilian Live Really Doesn't Suit You

by MoriadlerAdlerson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:29:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1590050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoriadlerAdlerson/pseuds/MoriadlerAdlerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a failed marriage and one hanging in the balance, Sebastian (who went under the allies of Philip Anderson) wondered why he ever tried to be normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Civilian Live Really Doesn't Suit You

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an AU where Anderson was Sebastian Moran  
> In first person (Anderson/Moran's perspective)

I never fully realized until recently that a name could be so much more than just that. In my case, it involved secrets that I never wanted to be revealed, that should be mine alone to keep, and a past that could (and probably would) invoke pain and sorrow if others were to walk in my shoes. I tried for many years to keep it all behind me, but I should have known it wouldn't last. Everyone will soon know the real truth about my name: Colonel Sebastian Moran.

I sighed a bit as I watched my daughter, Alexandra, sleep in her bed in the hotel suite we were staying at. She was the result of my first attempt at a normal life after leaving the Army. Tragically, it ended in a slightly bitter divorce, with my ex-wife, Josephina, having full custody of her and taking her to America. Since then, I had only married one other time to a woman I met through my cousin, Irene (yes, I'm related to The Woman). Her name was River Song, and she must have been God sent because, even though she never knew my real name (at first), she still cared for me, despite me being branded as the idiot who can "lower the IQ of the whole street." Course, that was Philip Anderson, a pseudonym I had to pick up to avoid having people finding me out. Course, that could never stop such people like Sherlock Holmes or my employer, the world's only consulting criminal, Jim Moriarty. Now that she knows, this could be another marriage that ended in failure of communication. Though, I only wanted to keep her safe. Keep my family safe from my dangerous life.

I heard footsteps from the hallway heading in this direction, and I had half a mind to take my gun out in defense. Of course, I recognized those very footsteps, and I had a hunch of why he was here. I opened the door just as soon as he got to the door. "What do you want, boss?" I asked in a bit of an unintended harsh tone, crossing my arms. 

"Oh, don't be like that, Basher. Be fortunate I still kept you around." Jim gave me a light warning, remaining as cool as a cucumber as he walked over to the window and looked down at the nearly empty London street.

I knew all too well, though, that it was just a facade. A curtain to hide the true rage he was able to have. "You know it was all part of the act. What did you expect me to do beyond what I can do?" I inquired, trying to keep my voice down to let my daughter sleep.

"You know exactly what." He replied bitterly at first. He gave a wicked soft laugh after. "It almost marvels me that, even after my supposed death, you were still loyal. Even getting your brother to do some of the work."

I almost hated the fact I did that, since he ended up getting caught. "I would have done it myself, though it would have raised too much suspicion." I told him.

He gave a sigh. "You do have a point." He turned from the window to face me. "You really have let yourself go, though. Nothing I can't fix." He smirked as he went and grabbed me by my tie.

"Boss, please. Not with my daughter here." I pleaded. Something I don't normally do.

Jim Moriarty may have been a tad shorter than me, but he has much more power than I would ever have. He quickly eyed my daughter before letting go of my tie. "Why even try to be normal, Sebastian?" He suddenly asked me, taking slow steps towards my daughter's bed. "It didn't work out the first time. There should be no point in doing attempt number two. Besides, civilian life doesn't suit you at all." He sat on the edge of the bed and went to move a few strands of her hair.

I would have protested, but we both knew it was more than completely futile. Thankfully, it didn't wake her up.


End file.
